


Room Enough

by senalishia



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Art, Being in love with your best friend is suffering, Bilbo's song about Eärendil, Canonical Character Death, Celebrian has been through some stuff okay, D/s undertones, Depression, F/M, How long can two elves talk about trees?, Inspired by Art, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Metamours in cahoots, Not LaCE compliant, Polyamorous Triad, Polyamorous Vee, Polyamory, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Some impassioned makeouts but no onpage sex, Suicidal Thoughts, Temporary Character Death, Tol Eressëa, Valinor, reference to past trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-03
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2019-07-05 16:24:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15867336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/senalishia/pseuds/senalishia
Summary: Elrond lost his lover to death and was fortunate enough to find love again. Then he was parted from his wife as well, to give her a last chance at healing.Gil-galad, having returned to life, meets Celebrian on Tol Eressëa, and together they must determine how the relationships will all work out once Elrond finally returns to them.





	1. Liberty

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Tolkien Reverse Summer Bang 2018. Prompt and beautiful illustration (in the last chapter) by [@aphrodites-bloody-rose](http://aphrodites-bloody-rose.tumblr.com)
> 
> For the purposes of this fic, Gil-galad is the son of Orodreth, who is the son of Angrod. (Isn't multiple-choice canon fun?)

_Elrond remained all composure as Elendil related what he and his people had witnessed. Immediately, he started organizing people, talked logistics for hours, offered all the aid he could to those who had just lost everything. Gil-galad pulled him aside late that night and all but forced him to rest. Only then did he finally collapse into his friend’s arms and allow himself to grieve._  
\----------  
A dark power grew once again in Mordor. The remaining leaders of Men and Elves had been called to Lindon to counsel on how best to oppose this threat that it seemed they could never fully vanquish. Elrond never felt entirely comfortable travelling anymore; every time he left Imladris, he felt the way he imagined a spirit would leaving its body behind. At least he would have a chance to see Gil-galad again. He’d never much aspired to ruling a realm of his own, and missed the early days when they’d had the luxury of working side-by-side. 

Gil-galad, his dear friend, greeted as warmly as ever and made him comfortable in his customary rooms in the palace. He could almost pretend he still felt truly at home here, entirely at ease. Even the danger looming over the fledgeling kingdoms of Men and the last strongholds of the Elves seemed less terrible with the greatest strategic mind in Middle Earth bending all his skill toward the problem. 

Gil-galad and Elrond and their trusted counsellors, Oropher and his people, Galadriel and Celeborn and the envoy Cirdan had sent from Mithlond, and Men from Gondor and Arnor spent days discussing what intelligence they had been able to gather and what resources they might be able to commit. If the valour of all peoples could be relied upon, the greatest alliance of the Second Age could have the power to free their beloved lands from Sauron’s shadow for good this time. 

And yet, amid this heavy talk of almost certain war, he still had enough attention remaining to note insignificant interpersonal minutia, at least where it concerned him closely. Though not as closely as he’d like, said that tempter in the back of his mind that he had never been able to fully rid himself of. Maybe it was not worth mentioning. But Gil-galad was indisputably a close friend, and he could just convince himself, by indubitably spurious logic, that this had possible implications for the integrity of the council. (Honestly there seemed to be no animosity whatsoever, but it wouldn’t hurt to check in, right?) 

So at the next midday recess, he asked Gil-galad aside for a private word. “My friend, it is possible that I am mistaken, and I apologize also if I overstep, but it seems to me that-- I may have noted that--” 

_Why had this become so difficult?_

“Elrond, I have never known you to speak your mind when it was not sorely needed,” Gil-galad said with a smile. “Say what you will.” 

“You and Erestor are no longer… seeing each other.” As of a few years ago, the young scholar had been the latest of the king’s interminable string of lovers, but they way they had been acting toward each other today--something had changed, he was sure of it. 

“Oh, yes, you caught that, did you? He broke it off, I suppose it’s been six months ago now.” Once again Elrond viciously quelled the voice in the back of his mind telling him, _your turn_. “Utterly polite about it, of course,” Gil-galad continued, “thanked me ever so much for the experience, but apparently he needed some time to focus on his work without any pleasant distractions.” He hesitated before adding more gravely, “Cataloguing the written works of Numenor has become somewhat more pressing a task than it used to be.” 

The mention of that still-new grief must have unsettled Elrond’s thoughts, because the next thing he said was, “Does that mean I can have him now?” 

He realized he’d misspoken even before he saw the look on Gil-galad’s face. “As an advisor,” he clarified, hoping his face didn’t look as warm as it felt. “I’ve suspected for years the only reason I couldn’t convince him to come to Imladris was because of you.” 

“Oh, well in that case, I will gladly release him if he wants to go.” He grinned. “Though I would have answered the same if it had been the other thing.” 

Now Elrond was sure he was visibly blushing. This brilliant, beautiful fool, why did he have to make everything so _difficult_? Couldn't even blame him for striking so near in his jest, so careful had Elrond been in suppressing any treacherous feeling. “If he’s interested in helping to preserve what’s left, I’m sure I’ll get him to come east eventually.” And that settled the matter. No risk of bitter feelings invading critical discussions, and no further need for him to speak of Gil-galad’s romantic habits at all. 

Really, he ought to have better methods of coping by now. This wasn’t the first time inconvenient feelings had flared when his attention was needed elsewhere. But expecting better of himself and wishing he were more focused on the tasks before him had no power to banish unwanted desires. If anything, the tension of the current situation made self-control harder to achieve in the less pressing personal sphere.  
  
Over the next several days they planned, and plotted, and asked and received more from Elendil’s handful of refugees than anyone felt right in presuming. And the entire time, Elrond found far to much of his mind wasted on being unduly captivated by every expression of Gil-galad’s face, every movement of his body. 

Gil-galad noticed his discomfort eventually, of course, and one night it was his turn to pull him into his study, close the door behind them, and ask Elrond if there was something bothering him and whether there was anything he could do to help. 

Elrond deflected at first, on instinct. “It’s not anything important. Just a--a personal issue.” He couldn’t say truthfully that it didn’t concern Gil-galad, but keeping this feeling hidden had become a deeply ingrained reflex. 

“I suppose I can allow you to keep your own counsel on such matters,” Gil-galad said, but with a frown. 

Elrond appreciated this forbearance from prying, but perhaps his friend, his king, deserved more of the truth. And maybe, as well, Elrond deserved to speak it aloud. To repeatedly suppress, silence, and deny over so many centuries wore away at him. A bit more openness, at least, he could try. 

“No,” he began after a long silence, “I believe you ought to know. I do value your insight, and this is--” If he actually said it concerned him, he would be skirting dangerously close to the point of no return. “--a subject I have been considering for some time.” 

“Of course. Even if you need only a listening ear, I’m happy to help.” 

Yes, always so willing to lend his aid to a friend. And so very, very easy to fall in love with. “The problem is--” He stood and began to pace as he spoke. “Actually I think I have fallen prey to what the philosophers of Eregion used to call the fallacy of just reward.” The mere act of speaking on the matter aloud to another person on the matter made his thoughts more clear. 

“That one can hold Eru hostage via voluntary sacrifice, more or less, yes?” 

“Exactly.” How long had he been unconsciously doing this? “I have long forbidden myself a particular indulgence which does not align with what I have been taught of moral propriety, at least among the Noldor. I did it, I believe, out of some sense that in so doing I could forestall some great calamity. But what is the evidence I see before me? The greatest power granted to elves can but slow the approach of our inevitable decline, our enemy grows in power while we scramble unprepared, and _my brother's grave lies at the bottom of the ocean!_ ” Wait. He needed to slow down; that last was uncalled for. Had not Haudh-en-elleth also been lost beneath the waves since the War of Wrath? 

Gil-galad, bless him, did not mention it, merely walked over and put a hand on Elrond’s shoulder. Elrond breathed deeply and tried to keep from trembling. 

“And what libertine wickedness could we expect from you, were there no dire consequences looming but those we already confront?” Gil-galad murmured in his ear. 

If he were to actually speak the words out loud, what then? He had no fear that Gil-galad would react badly. It was the opposite he dreaded. But if he could have nothing else, could he not at least have this? _He asked you what you wanted. Just tell him._

But once he resolved to do so, words fled from him. He took a step away, out from under Gil-galad’s touch, and could not think what to say, as Gil-galad waited ever so patiently for his response. Finally, without looking back, he murmured, “I seem to remember hearing you are lately without a lover.” 

“That’s true. What, are you finally ready to find one yourself? We could--” Elrond forced himself to turn and meet Gil-galad’s gaze, and so witnessed when moment of realization shook him like a physical blow. “--wait--” His voice was unsteady now. “Elrond, if that was-- was not you offering yourself, please tell me right now because--” 

Elrond walked silently back and wrapped his arms around Gil-galad, leaning heavily on him as he finally stopped fighting. “Yes, it was. This is what I desired.” 

They stood like that for several long deep breaths. Then Gil-galad whispered, “It's hard to believe-- If I could have wished for one thing that I ever really wanted... it would probably be something responsible like the total destruction of our Enemy and safety for the free peoples of the world. But if I could have another…” 

“I waited too long,” said Elrond. “I'm sorry.” 

Gil-galad rested his chin on Elrond’s shoulder. “I’m sure you’ll find a way to make up for it.” He shifted in Elrond's embrace. “Here, let me kiss you.” 

Elrond leaned in willingly. Gil-galad placed one hand under his chin to position his mouth exactly where he wanted it, and put his own experience to good use and made up for Elrond’s lack of it. The kiss drew on for ages and was far too short. What had he feared that was not worth this? Elrond initiated a second kiss almost immediately after the first, soaking in every new sensation. 

Gradually, Elrond allowed himself to explore the feel of Gil-galad’s skin under his hands and lips. Tongue? Maglor had once mentioned learning from his own father that a tongue was good for more than speech. And a corner of his mind remained aware that with all the goings on, either of them might be looked for at any moment. He continued on, regardless. 

Gil-galad trailed kisses up Elrond’s neck and across his jaw. Elrond’s low hum of enjoyment turned to a soft choked-off sound in the back of his throat as Gil-galad began to explore the outer edge of his ear with lips, tongue and teeth. The sensation propagated through him, wave upon wave of warmth leaving room in his mind for little else. He had only the presence of mind to curse his less than complete control of his own body and its eager response, which Gil-galad was pressed much too closely against him not to have noticed. 

Indeed, Gil-galad pulled back, grinning fiercely. “Come to my bedroom?” 

It was just across the hall. They might not even be noticed. He found it difficult to care if anyone did.  
\-----  
_They had less than two decades, in the end, but they did not waste them._


	2. Vivacity

_ The first time, Celebrian merely requested that the entourage delay their departure from Imladris for a few weeks so she could ensure the gardening project she had started would be left in good hands. The second time, she suggested they send an escort back for her in a year, as she had begun several additional endeavors and she couldn't imagine it would take much less time than that to make them all safely self-sufficient. The third time she informed her parents before they even arrived that if she accompanied them to Imladris again she did not expect to return at all. _

\-----

At the close of the day, Elrond, as had become his habit, hiked up to the ridge above the valley which granted the best view of the setting sun--and the Evening Star. Celebrian, as had become her habit, accompanied him, walking by his side and telling him of all she had done that day.

“...but I discovered, in a nice bit of luck, that Galnen had actually written down everything he knew about brewing before he departed and tucked it away in the north library without telling anyone! There’s a couple of people I know here who should be clever enough to work from his notes. And the herb garden is rather threatening to take over the rest of the grounds than anything else, so if I still have your permission, we ought to be able to get the first new bottling of  _ miruvor  _ in by early fall.”

Normally, on these excursions, Celebrian spoke as she would without needing him to say too much in return. Elrond had become so used to drowning his thoughts in the soothing cadence of her voice that it took him a moment to recognize that something she had said invited a response. “Hm? Yes, that sounds excellent. Thank you.” 

A simple ‘thank you’ hardly seemed sufficient for all she had been doing here. Imladris and its infrastructure had survived largely intact during the latest war, but the loss of so many of his people who had either died in battle or fled West afterward had been devastating. Those who remained had hardly possessed the will to begin rebuilding, himself not the least despite all the cunningly crafted power that sustained him and this place. But Sauron’s ring had not been destroyed, and he could not ignore the need to fortify themselves against the possibility that it, and its master, would one day return.

Celebrian had taken it upon herself to provide momentum where they faltered. She had a talent for identifying what needed to be done and the people who could do it and throwing them together until something productive resulted. He could never ask her to be responsible for everything that needed fixing here, but it was the path that she seemed to have chosen regardless. 

They reached the top of the ridge, and she stood by him in silence as he gazed out toward the West. Today, though, his thoughts, and an occasional glance, kept returning to her. Many people here had proven themselves useful, even indispensable. Why was she the one who kept sticking in his mind?

“Celebrian,” he began, but then she turned to look at him and her eager smile drove whatever words of gratitude he had meant to say directly out of his head.

“Why?” he asked desperately, instead. “Why do you stay, endlessly giving where you have no obligation? What keeps you here?” 

“Well… I…” She gestured as if hoping to pluck the words out of the air with her hands. He rarely saw her this hesitant in speech or action. “I like being useful-- when I see something that I think could be improved-- not that, I don't think-- I'm sure you would have gotten along fine without me, but…” 

She took a deep breath and started over. “I've never been anywhere that had such a spirit of kindness, generosity, and openness as this place has.” She ran her hand down the bark of a nearby tree, dropped to her knees, and brushed her fingers over the grass in front of her, turning her eyes away from him. “And it's--I know we're not supposed to speak of such things out loud but--Imladris is  _ you _ .” Now she look directly up at him. “And--I love it and I want to see it at its best.”

Surprise fractured into a riotous tangle of emotions as he grasped her meaning.  She shouldn’t-- her love ought to be poured out to someone who could properly receive it, not a broken vessel such as himself. But once offered, could he refuse her? Did she not deserve to be given everything she desired?

“Imladris and I will make every attempt to be worthy of your help,” he said.

She grinned and leapt to her feet; he couldn't quite tell in the dim light whether she was blushing. The sun had disappeared completely below the horizon by then, and stars began to join the Great Jewel in the sky.

“That’s just it, you already are!” She laughed and raced back down into the valley ahead of him, nimbly keeping her footing on rough ground and leaping down drops almost as tall as she was. When she reached the valley floor she threw her hands into the air and twirled around humming a tune to herself. 

When he reached the bottom of the trail himself she ran over to him, took his hands in hers, and didn't stop moving until their faces were nearly touching. He took a step back, startled at her sudden closeness.

“Oh-- sorry,” she said, releasing him and moving back a bit herself. “That would not have been-- I forgot myself for a moment.” She smiled sheepishly at him once more, then turned and started back toward the house.

She radiated joy and hope and he hadn't even properly expressed his feelings to her yet. His hands still tingled with the memory of her touch, and he wondered what she would have done had he not backed away. He caught up and walked beside her for a moment as he tried to gather his thoughts. He had three thousand years of lore to draw upon. He had to have learned something that would help him communicate to her some fraction of the convoluted mess filling his head right now.

“I suppose you have had many suitors attempted to set your beauty to poetry,” he said finally.

Her smile seemed encouraging. “I will not deny it, but if you would like to make your own attempt, it would not be unwelcome.” 

Nothing for it but to obey. He pounded his thoughts into a form suitable for expression in words. “You put me in mind of a waterfall; a silver cascade  ever in motion, calling out with delightful echoes and bringing a gift of life to those below.” Poor work overall, but passable given its extemporaneous nature.

“Thank you,” she murmured. They had reached the nearest outdoor porch; she stopped and turned to face him. “I am afraid I have no skill with elegant words, and must continue to rely on deeds to show my appreciation,” she ducked her head and turned her eyes away, then continued hurriedly, “for I do not yet believe I have succeeded at making the beauty of Imladris equal to that of its master.” She glanced back up at him.

He was pretty sure they were both blushing now.  Yet maybe, given her recent actions, she would not mind if he put his arms around her and just held her for a while.

When he did so, he could feel how fast her heart was beating. She rested her hands and head on his chest; her abundant softness pressing against him both soothed and enticed.  “Yours is a grandeur I cannot ever hope to match, nor deserve,” he whispered to her. “And though I cannot imagine limiting your freedom, I do not believe I could ever be truly happy unless you were here. Celebrian--I love you.”

She looked up at him and now smiled through tears. “And I, you. If only I knew how to show you what I see when I look at you.”

There was much she did not yet know. But why could he so easily imagine her tackling any of his faults with the same valor she did everything else? He trusted her with his heart in a way he had toward no one since--since the end of the war--

She wiped away tears with one hand and slipped the other carefully around the back of his neck, fingers barely brushing against his hair. He shivered.

She was looking at him thoughtfully now. “If I ask properly this time, may I have a kiss?”

“If you so desire, I could-- I hesitate to assume I know what will most appeal to you but I will certainly  _ try _ .”

She rose up on her toes to meet his lips. He merely brushed against hers, to begin with, then gradually learned the shape and rhythm of her mouth as he surrendered to her earnest attention. He pressed his hand gently into her lower back to draw her in even closer; she tighten her grip on his neck and gasped. For a moment she squirmed shamelessly against him, the froze and drew back.

“That was...impressive,” she allowed.

\-----

_ Over the next year they discovered new ways of taking delight in each other's bodies. One day, after she collapsed breathless in his arms, they came to a mutual agreement that they probably ought to get properly married. Her mother had ways of knowing things, after all, and was not lightly crossed. _


	3. Melancholy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Most of the Celebrian trauma stuff in the tags shows up in this and the next chapter.

_ She hadn’t even the will to look them in the eyes as she bade them farewell. She embraced her daughter last and longest of all, before she departed, the only member of her family to whom her last words were not “I’m sorry.” _

\-----

The ship rocked gently in its place at the dock. Most of the other passengers had disembarked already, eager to seek out friends and loved ones who had come before them. Celebrian sat near the stern, curled around a single bag that held everything she’d brought with her, scraping together the will to move. 

After forcing herself through unendurable terror every day on the road from Imladris to Mithlond, the journey by sea had been unexpectedly anticlimactic; once or twice she had been tempted to wonder whether she had exaggerated her pain after all. But now that they had reached their destination, the fear grew inside her again like a weed not properly uprooted. Aboard ship, she had known the name and face of every person who could possibly be within leagues of her; she had nearly been able to convince herself she was safe. Once she stepped onto the island, she would have nothing but useless logic proving to her she remained free from danger.

The captain was speaking to someone. This stoic Avari woman who had been in charge of their crossing of the great ocean had also promised to personally look after Celebrian during the voyage. And she had scrupulously kept that promise, but in a cool, arm’s-length sort of way that had been somewhat of a relief. Never really spoke to her or gave any indication she even knew who she was, just made sure she ate regularly and prepared the tea that sometimes helped her rest for a few hours. They'd both arrived here alive and well and Celebrian didn't feel like she’d failed anyone.

The woman the captain spoke to, she was new, hadn’t been one of her fellow passengers. But Celebrian recognized something familiar in the way she moved, clearly at ease on the deck of a ship. She had long silver hair, much like Celebrian’s had been before she’d cut it all off the night after her rescue. (Her hair was the only befouled part of her she had been allowed to leave behind.)

“Hello!” The woman stood in front of her now, radiating a a bright friendliness that Celebrian tried not to take as a personal commentary on her own mood. “Welcome to Tol Eressea! I’m Eärwen of Tirion. I like to come out and personally greet our new arrivals whenever I can. I can’t claim to know absolutely everyone, but I know the whereabouts of most of the larger kin groups if you’d like to be directed to one.”

Many different feelings drifted back and forth inside her upon hearing the woman introduce herself, but none of them seemed able to rise to the surface, so she only replied flatly, “I suppose I’m your granddaughter. Celebrian.”

Eärwen was much more open in her reaction. “You’re--oh! Yes, yes, Artanis’s--right? Or, she was going by a different name now, wasn’t she, news from the East is always so long in coming and scattered about.”

“Galadriel. My mother, yes.”

Eärwen fidgeted as if she dearly wished to embrace her, but fortunately the captain must have warned her against it. The conversation had proved enough of a distraction from her growing unease that Celebrian found herself standing before she had time to overthink the action. She allowed the same impulse to carry her toward the dock, aware that she was not behaving properly to her newly discovered kinswoman but unwilling to break this fortuitous momentum. She at least turned and gave what she hoped was an encouraging smile--it was hard to tell, they didn’t come naturally the way they used to. 

“Captain Elbeth tells me that you’ve come here in need of rest and recovery.” Eärwen eventually broke the silence as they stepped off the ship.

She hadn’t known Celebrian before. She had nothing to compare her to. The guilt still rose up in her throat. “Yes,” she replied.

“Well, while I have to admit I feel a great longing to bring you straight to Tirion and show you off, it wouldn't be right of me to do anything but set you up wherever you will feel the most comfortable. Do you know what sort of environment you might prefer?”

Why did they always assume there was some combination of circumstances that would make her life bearable? What she needed was a place she could feel assured she was not in danger of being attacked at any minute. If she could trust what she’d been told, she now stood on an island on which not even a single orc had ever so much as set foot. But somehow her heart remained unconvinced.

She had apparently not escaped the need to reassure people of their helpfulness by having opinions about things. She was just so tired. She needed everyone to give up on the idea that she could be fixed. Maybe the first step was not to continue giving them hope that she could.

“No,” she answered. “I don’t.” 

Eärwen stopped walking just in front of a set of wide stone steps leading up to a busy street, and looked at her thoughtfully. Celebrian stood beside her and let herself be considered. “What make it worse?” she asked. “We can avoid that at least.”

Not forever. She’d hurt those who tried to help her if she never showed any improvement. She had permission for now, at least. Still, she found it difficult to just ask for what she needed. “I don’t want to travel,” she managed. “Especially overland. Ships are not as bad.”

Eärwen nodded. “Let me think of who I know here in Avallonë.” She stepped to the side to let a group of people pass, and Celebrian moved with her automatically. “And being touched, right? You’d rather not?” Celebrian nodded. “Are there particular noises or smells you should stay away from?”

Were there? She hadn’t considered it quite that way before. But she thought of lying awake at night, ears straining. Maybe she couldn’t have everything, but she was beginning to feel more bold in asking. “If it could be--very quiet at night. People’s voices passing by, when I can’t quite hear, it’s--I don’t--” She took a few breaths to settle herself as much as she could. “And smells... there must be some, but I can’t think of them.” Oh, except-- ”Hot metal?”

“All right. Maybe not somewhere in the city, then,” she mused. “There are a few fishing towns not far up the coast that are quieter, if it wouldn’t be too difficult for you to go that far. I’d be afraid you might get lonely, though. Is there anyone that’s come here before you that you’d like me to find, to come with you?”

No one in particular came to mind. She’d been at least acquainted with many people, but all of those closest to them had stayed with them at Imladris, and she had absolutely refused to allow anyone to take to the ships before they were ready just to accompany her. “No.”

“To be fair, if there were I expect I’d have heard more about you! Never mind, you have plenty of family here who will absolutely descend upon you if I don’t remind them to restrain themselves.”

All the great names of history that had died before she was born; she didn’t know how she ought to feel. “Thank you.”

“Thank me when I’ve succeeded. I think I know a couple of people I’d like to talk to, then. Before that though, it’s getting on in the afternoon, have you eaten recently?”

Celebrian reminded herself this was a perfectly polite question that anyone might be asked when meeting with a friend, to say nothing of a grandmother.

“I’m not really hungry,” she tried.

“Well, I hope you don’t mind if I at least stop for something on the way, I’ve been out here most of the morning.”

“Of course.” As easy as that?

Eärwen led her up the steps and out onto the street. The side before them was lined with small shops, while behind them remained open to a view of the ocean. Beyond, a maze of buildings, mostly of white stone, wound their way up a gentle slope, interspersed with dozens varieties of trees, almost none of which she recognized. She had some experience with cities of this size, but none had been populated entirely by Elves. 

She considered whether she ought to find this exceptionally frightening, but it remained merely incomprehensible. In any case, Eärwen was careful to choose a path along the street that allowed them a comfortable amount of personal space.

They eventually stopped in at a tiny establishment where Eärwen obtained a fragrant mixture of noodles, fish, and vegetables. Celebrian allowed herself to be talked into at least taking a taste-- the noodles were chewy, the sauce spicy and sweet.

Just as they exited, something caught Eärwen’s attention, and she hurried across the street and called out, “Elumir!”

Someone turned in response, and Celebrian caught up in time to see an elf who looked startlingly like her own daughter  His complexion was somewhat darker, but his intricately braided near-black hair and something in the shape of his his eyes and lips were all very like Arwen.

“Eärwen, what a pleasure to see you here!” he replied, and leaned in to embrace her.  “I assume you came down for the ship that just arrived. Did Aunt Elwing not come with you this time?”

“No, she expects her husband in any day now and stayed home. But it was well worth coming anyway, I had a wonderful surprise waiting for me. This is my granddaughter, Artanis’s daughter Celebrian. Celebrian, this is Elumir, son of Elured.”

Celebrian allowed herself to be introduced. Elumir greeted her with a short bow. This was Elrond’s near kinsman, then.

“I’m lucky to have noticed you, what brought you into the city today?” Eärwen asked.

“Oh, a half dozen smaller errands I saved up until they were worth the walk. I just met with the shipwrights guild to work out how much oak we can spare them in the next year.”

“Your mother’s new strain?”

“No, not yet, those are still four or five years away from full maturity. This is going to be more of the second generation groves grown from the Middle-earth transplants.”

“You’re still planning to keep those sustainable, then? I thought I’d heard from your uncle there was talk of replacing them with something else.”

Celebrian hadn’t expected to be witness to an in-depth discussion of tree husbandry; it reminded her powerfully of her mother’s work in Lothlorien. She hadn’t been prepared to never see it again the last time she’d left; it was almost the only regret she reserved for herself.

“We do intend to preserve the original transplants, they carry a great amount of meaning for many of our people. The newer groves I think we’ve decided to replant at least partially with beeches, also Mother’s work, the ones we started on the eastern edge of the forest have been quite a success so far.”

She had spent so long focused on what she needed to escape, she’d almost forgotten how to  _ want _ something. Maybe she ought to nurture this small longing, this pull  _ toward _ that she now felt.

“Oh, that sounds lovely. Quite a bit of original Doriath stock went into those, didn’t it?”

“As much as she could. Those are still very rare and highly protected. If you’ll believe it, some were hesitant to let a Noldo touch them.”

“Pardon me,” Celebrian interjected, “your trees, are they here, on the island?” She didn’t know how far she could make herself go, even for what she desired, but she could ask if it were even close enough to try.

“Ah, yes, there’s still so much I have to tell you about this place,” said Eärwen. “Eryn Eressea takes up the whole northern half of the island, more or less. It’s a popular place to settle for those coming from the forests of Middle-earth, and Elured and Elurin have taken to sort of managing the whole area. With Elumir’s hard work too, of course.”

“Not as hard as she’s implying!” Elumir laughed. “The forest is dear to us, though, and I do what I can to preserve it.”

“Is it very far?” Celebrian asked.

“Do you think you might like to see it?” said Eärwen, latching on to this expression of desire with discomfiting enthusiasm. “It isn’t terribly far. Once you get out of the city, the Great House is only a few hours’ walk away, isn’t it?”

“Yes, that’s about right. I was just preparing to head back, as soon as I locate my sister; you’re welcome to join us.”

Celebrian considered. She viewed her brokenness so often in terms of how it affected other people; she wasn’t used to seeing her fears placed so clearly between herself and her desires, and her frustration was, if not pleasant, at least motivating. “I--I’d like to try.”

\-----

_ Before she even left the outskirts of Avallone, panic rose up and overwhelmed her. But her companions waited patiently beside her until her fear became conquerable once more, and they slowly made their way forward, the promise of mallorns shining in the distance. _


	4. Clarity

_ Most of the family had already been out to see their newly arrived relative at least once. And while as a former High King of the Noldor he had an open invitation to contribute to matters of state, he couldn’t truthfully consider his days busy. But it was different, he told himself. He’d actually known her before. _

_ \----- _

Gil-galad followed his niece Merilgwin deeper into the wooded glades of Eryn Eressea. She had finally convinced him to accompany her on her far more frequent trips. “I don’t know if I’ve heard the most recent news on you and Lady Rillian,” he made sure to mention before they reached their destination. “Is this merely to be a musical collaboration, or…?”He left room for her to elaborate on her ever-changing relationship.

“First of all, if you call her ‘Lady Rillian’ where she can hear, she’ll make you regret it. She’s opposed to the idea of a hereditary nobility and doesn’t want to be seen as a participant in an unjustified hierarchy. And as for our relationship,” Merilgwin sighed deeply. “I don’t know. Maybe. I want to try again, but I don’t know if she will. We perform so well together, I always think we have to be able to make things work. And she’s just so…” Another sigh. “And then when it all goes wrong, it never goes wrong in the same way, and I never expect it. I’ll have to wait and discover where fate leads us this time, I suppose.”

It still occasionally amazed him how openly and unashamedly people now spoke of romantic and even physical relationships between two men or two women. True, back in Lindon he had by virtue of his position never needed to be terribly discreet, but it was still the sort of thing people whispered about, rather than discussing openly at family dinners. 

He could have found companion for heart or for bed (if not a true  _ spouse _ , they had not turned their backs entirely on tradition) in any number of perfectly unobjectionable men by now if he’d wanted to. He had made a few listless attempts, but always pulled back before getting past the first friendly meetings. He and Elrond had been together the very night before he’d died, and had forged an emotional bond for centuries previous to the last precious years of physical love. And he had come nowhere near moving beyond that.

That was, perhaps, the other reason he had waited so long to see Celebrian.

Jealousy had never come easy to him. He’d always known he wouldn’t be keeping Elrond forever, that the straitlaced need to do the right thing that he so loved in him would one day lead him to desire a proper marriage and family. And from all he’d heard, Celebrian was a worthy match. Mostly, he hoped she wouldn’t mind him holding onto this massive hopeless yearning for her husband that he seemed to have no intention of leaving behind.

(As far as massive hopeless yearnings went, it wasn’t even the most dramatically tragic one in his own family. He didn’t feel too bad clinging to it a while longer.)

In time, he and Merilgwin arrived at the Great House in the middle of the forest. It sprawled even more widely now than the first time he had been here. The main halls, constructed of sturdy, dark wood, lay against the gorge of a small creek, while various wings extended down the slope, into the ground, and up platforms in the tops of the trees.

An unsmiling woman dressed all in black, trousers, blouse and a long, silver-streaked shawl draped over her head and shoulders, rose from her seat at the root of an enormous elm as they approached.  The... militantly egalitarian Rillian sauntered directly to Merilgwin. “Returned to me at last, my love?”

Merilgwin’s wordless nod was answered with a long deep kiss on the mouth. As she seemed to have things under control, Gil-galad went in search of Celebrian.

He found her high in one of the treeborne parts of the house, reading. She looked up as he approached. “Gil-galad! How good to see you at last!” It was not the effusive smothering he might have expected from her before, but she greeted him with a genuine smile and a brief touch that almost qualified as an embrace. 

He talked with her up there for over an hour, the conversation not nearly as awkward as he had feared. They spoke of shared memories of Middle-earth, and what he’d been doing since his return to life, though less of her own recent experiences. They even managed to speak of Elrond as any two people might of a mutual close friend, and of his and Celebrian’s children. 

“Your sons sound like valiant warriors,” he commented. “You know, Fingon once told me that getting killed by the hand of Sauron himself proved me both brave and foolhardy enough to be considered an honorary Nolofinwean. While I am sure Elladan and Elrohir will be wiser than I was in choosing their battles, they’ve surely inherited the bravery. And it sounds like Arwen has your knack for never seeing a problem without also seeing a solution.”

“May it serve her well in my absence,” she replied softly.

They spoke often over the next several days, whenever she felt she had the energy. She walked with him in her favorite places in the forest and helped him develop a new appreciation for the strange, haunting music Rillian and Merilgwin wrote and performed together.

Eventually, she began to speak more of her own feelings, first only occasional frank comments, and then deeper confessions as her confidence in their friendship grew.

“Living here seems to have been good for you,” he observed, which was true given what she had disclosed of her previous misery.

“It is restful here. Quiet. Comfortable. Things are certainly not as bad as they once were.” Her expression, though, conveyed an underlying dissatisfaction.

He risked commenting on it. “But you lack something yet.” Normally this would prompt her to deny any negative feelings and change the subject.

This time, though, she did not. “Even here I can feel the fear right behind me all the time,” she admitted. “I’m always tired, but I don’t want to rest. I never want to eat but I know I should. I cannot remain this way. There must be more to life, more to me. Maybe not what I used to be, but… something.”

“And what will you do to find it?” he prompted gently, wanting to encourage her without pushing too much.

She grimaced. “Everyone tells me I ought to try to make it to the gardens of Lorien, that there are elves and Maiar there with experience healing even this kind of hurt. But…” She began to hesitate. Once again, they neared the limits of her openness. He gave her space decide how much she would say. “It’s just so far away. Most days it seems impossible to even attempt.” 

She looked down at her hands as she spoke, now.  “And then if I did, somehow, travel so far, I could not be sure that my effort would have any benefit, that there would truly be healing to be found there." She paused again for many moments, darting occasional glances at him. “I-- I promised Elrond I wouldn't, and I do intend to keep that promise, but-- I still lie awake some mornings wondering how fast I could travel without this useless body. The distance to Lorien from Mandos is so much shorter.”

That was troubling to hear her say. But she had to have known that and trusted him enough to say it anyway. He collected his thoughts before speaking, determined not to make her regret that trust. 

“I can’t personally speak very highly of being dead,” he began. “I couldn’t think properly without a body. All my final thoughts swirled around over and over and it was very difficult to form new ones. Apparently my life was virtuous and my death quick enough not to need much in the way of Námo’s direct intervention, but it still took me over a hundred years to be sorted out enough to return to the living. I almost missed Merilgwin’s birth.” He had to resist putting an arm around her, in which she would take no comfort. “So I don’t think you need to regret promising not to go that way. It wouldn’t be any easier.”

“Then what do I have left? In what way do I move forward, if I can neither decrease the cost nor be sure of the reward?”

He believed her own feelings on the cost, but what about the reward? “What causes you to doubt the healing of Lorien?”

She shrugged wearily. “Maybe I am merely mistaken. My spirit is damaged; I believe many things that are not true, and disbelieve many that are. I know this. But I have only my own experience to guide me, and so far it has been that I, at least, cannot be healed.” 

“You do not believe that those in Lorien who might help you are as powerful as you have heard?”

Her breathing shuddered, and tears gathered in her eyes. He had never seen her weep, not when he had known her before and not since he had been here. “I once believed Elrond could fix anything,” she whispered.

To have that much faith in someone she loved more than anything, and to fail, had to have been terribly hard for both of them. “He is indeed a master of healing, but he is also but one person, and would be the last to deny you if you found someone more talented than he who might be of some use to you.”

She nodded and wiped tears from her cheeks. “All this has been half formed in my mind for so long, but saying out loud to someone else helps me see it do much more clearly. Thank you.” She took a shaky breath. “Getting all the way to Lorien. It’s a problem. There must be a solution.”

\-----

_ It took many more conversations and help from many more people, but eventually she found a way to make the journey. And despite her doubts, her effort returned a compensation she hadn’t been able to imagine at the time. Gradually, she learned once more how to be happy _ .


	5. Synergy

_ He managed to get wrapped up in his own business again, hearing second and third hand accounts of how she was doing from various family members. He was incredibly pleased to hear of her improvement, but somehow managed to drift away from her once more. _

\------

He almost literally ran into her one day as, absorbed in his own thoughts, he crossed the great square in Tirion. Upon seeing her, he realized how faded and frail and less  _ herself _ she had looked when he first met her in Eryn Eressea. Now she had regained some of the energy, the intensity he remembered.

“Hello, starshine!” she said once she’d avoided crashing into him. To his delight, she then greeted him with a brief but enveloping embrace. “I’d hoped to find some time to catch up with you while I was still the city. How have you been?”

“Very well, thank you.” They retreated to  sit together near a convenient fountain. “The new settlement to the south is mostly self-sufficient, finally, so I’ve just arrived back in town myself. And what about you, you look amazing!”

“Thank you. It’s nice to have room in my head again to take care of all the little things.”

“I’m so glad to hear it. And what have you been up to, did you just come from the palace?”

“I did! I’ve been feeling like I might be able to take on a very small project, and Grandfather was kind enough to let me join the planning committee for this year's harvest festival. I need to be careful not to overextend myself, but it’s nice to have something to do. It’s nice to  _ want _ to have something to do.”

“I’m sure if we’re not careful, you’ll be quietly running the whole city by this time next year.”

She  _ laughed _ . “Only the parts that need fixing. If you’d rather I didn’t, you’ll need to work harder at it yourself.”

He could only imagine what Imladris had been like with her there. She must have given the place as much strength as Vilya itself. “But what would you do then, if I didn’t leave you anything?”

“You’re right, you ought to leave the most enjoyable tasks for me, you and all the other kings can do the boring parts." Her tone turned more sober. “I really do feel like I’ll need to keep finding ways to apply myself. I’m beginning to be able to feel things that aren’t fear again, and it’s what I wanted, but now I have room for all sorts of other worries.” She sighed and wrapped her arms around herself. “I miss my husband, and my children. Just-- all the little things I remember about them. Arwen getting revenge on her brothers when they teased her. How easy it was to make Elrond blush with just the right few words.”

Gil-galad smiled. “Ah, now that is something I can admit to taking advantage of a time or two myself.”

That seemed to raise her mood again. “It’s hard to resist, he’s so cute when he does it!”

“I’m sure you’ve mastered the art, beyond what I could ever achieve. Though perhaps it is somewhat easier for a wife than for a lover.”

“A-- what?” Her smile faltered and her brow furrowed. “Were you--?” He had the dubious honor of putting her at a loss for words.

Oh by the light of all the stars, had she not  _ known _ ? He did try to restrain himself around her, but his and Elrond’s relationship had been the worst kept secret of the Last Alliance, he normally didn’t even think of it as something hidden. 

His stomach twisted. He hadn’t meant to do this to her. “I-- I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize that you wouldn’t have-- Yes, Elrond and I were, um--for about the last dozen and a half years before I died--"

She nodded slowly. “He told stories about you all the time in company, but in private we hardly ever spoke of-- I knew that you were-- were close, and that he missed you terribly, and I didn’t want to cause him more pain, so I never brought it up...” 

And she may very well not have heard it from anyone else, it not being exactly polite to mention former lovers in front of a person’s wife. As silence mounted between them, he struggled to find something to say that not would make things worse. He could not truthfully tell her his own feelings had changed, and it would do her no good to profess his sincere lack of intention to ever act on them. 

She spoke again before he could. “Please, please, don’t worry, I’m not-- I do understand… mostly… I knew that he had been with-- with a man, before we married, I just hadn’t realized that…”  Her voice shook, though; she was obviously unsettled by the revelation. “I apologize. I may just need some time to consider-- all of this.” 

And she hurried away in the direction she had been headed before, leaving Gil-galad to hope his careless words had not burdened her anew when she had worked so hard to find peace.

\-----

Her errand had originally been to speak to a few merchants and artisans about work for the festival, but instead she moved aimlessly from one street to another, paying attention only to her own swirling thoughts. 

She had noticed when she first met the two of them, long before she even considered marrying Elrond, that he and Gil-galad shared an incredibly close friendship. And apparently that relationship had developed into something...different. ‘More’ hardly seemed the right way to describe a change in what was already so strong a bond. If they both desired it, the move to physical love would have been almost natural. But to discover that the connections that existed between the three of them were not precisely as she had assumed left her ill at ease. 

More than anything she felt disappointment with herself for being upset at all. She would never doubt her husband’s devotion to her. And her friendship with Gil-galad had been an invaluable source of strength as she found herself again. It wasn’t fair to either of them to create a problem where no problem existed. What was still broken within her that made her unable to accept this piece of their past?

Wait. She had learned during her time in Lorien to recognize when her thoughts became disorganized and unhelpful. She stopped, took a moderated breath, and reacquainted herself with her surroundings. She had wandered nearly all the way to the West Gate. She leaned against a nearby laurel tree and meditated on the sound of the wind in the leaves until her mind felt clear again.

There was no use in blaming herself. She felt how she felt. And when she no longer feared or condemned that feeling, she was free to examine it more closely. 

Elrond and Gil-galad had once been lovers. Then Gil-galad had died, and Elrond had married her. Elrond had still been mourning Gil-galad’s death when she decided to remain in Imladris and do what she could to help. She’d been aware of that at the time, but would she have been so quick to move into his life if she had known exactly what they had been to each other? She felt almost as if she had inadvertently taken something that did not belong to her. 

Gil-galad lived, now, here on the other side of the sea, and she had heard him, seen him when he spoke of Elrond. She didn’t think it implausible that he still carried a strong desire of some kind for him. And when, in due time, Elrond returned to them, he and Gil-galad might reforge an emotional connection much like what they’d had before. But it didn’t seem right that, for her sake, because she bore the title of ‘wife’, there was a part of their relationship forever lost to them.

She was astonished to discover this at the root of her dismay over Gil-galad’s revelation. Did she truly wish that her husband were free to lie with someone else? Not to replace her, of course, but--in addition? 

To be certain, she made herself confront the possibility directly. That all the pleasures of the body that she had once lavished upon him would also be bestowed by another. (Well, but not by just  _ anyone _ . By Gil-galad. Her cousin, her friend.) That Gil-galad probably already knew of those hidden places where the softest caress could leave Elrond gasping. Had she truly no reservations, imagining he might do so once more?

And did she also condone the attention Gil-galad might receive in return? That the masterful deftness with which Elrond once coaxed her to ecstasy would be turned to his benefit? 

Heat rose to her face. No, she still couldn’t detect in herself any objection to the idea of the two of them...her heart beat faster as images of the possibilities rose unbidden in her mind. And the  _ important _ part, she reminded herself, was that she didn’t think it fair to Gil-galad to deprive him of an important part of his relationship just because society considered her claim to supercede his.

Of course, she acknowledged soberly (as she fought to quell the long-absent ache suddenly rediscovered in the lowest part of her abdomen), the Eldar had never lost their skittishness around the idea of a married person desiring another. The Noldor, particularly so. And she didn't know for sure if either of them would even want to resume such a relationship. She could talk to Gil-galad about the idea, though, and if he did think there was a chance he would want to, it still wouldn’t be as simple as giving her own permission. 

She detached herself from the tree. If she had to effect a society-wide change in order to secure happiness for her husband, she would need to get started as soon as possible.

\-----

For three days, Gil-galad never found sufficient opportunity to talk to Celebrian longer than to say hello in passing. She didn’t seem distressed, either by his presence or otherwise, but neither could he be entirely sure that their friendship had not suffered irreparable damage. She’d claimed not to be angry with him, and her personality had never struck him as any more prone to jealousy than his own. But one’s heart could not always be constrained by one’s better judgement. He wanted to give her space to think, but until she chose to speak with him again, he could not be sure where they stood.

Then, after days of uncertainty, he and Finrod were meeting in Finrod’s study one morning to discuss the probably reaction of the Weavers’ Guild to a minor change in tax law, when Celebrian poked her head in, evidently pleased to see them. “There you are, Gil-galad! There’s something I’d like to talk to you about when you have a bit of time free.”

“This will wait,” Finrod smiled, giving him inconvenient permission to go.

Gil-galad felt tension mounting in him as he let her lead him deep in the gardens. She moved with no lack of energy, seeming cheerful, even excited. However, he tensed in anticipation of what she was about to say.

Finally she led him to a secluded bench and invited him to sit down next to her. “This should be a good place to talk privately.”

“I assume you wish to discuss-- the topic on which we parted the other day.” Facing an entire squadron of orcs took less bravery than this.

“Yes, that’s right!” She smiled, but the way her hands twisted in her lap he thought she might be as nervous as he. “I have done a great deal of thinking about--about you and Elrond having been lovers.” It was definitely taking effort for her to speak so frankly. “The two of you were very fortunate to have made each other so happy, and I’m glad for you. And it-- it seemed to me that something so beautiful, is something I wouldn't want to damage or break. Does that make sense?”

It didn’t, not entirely, except to the extent that she really did seem to have generally positive feelings about his previous relationship with her husband (beautiful?), which was probably the best possible outcome to this whole mishap. “I’m happy to hear that my untimely revelation seems not to have caused you too much pain,” seemed an appropriate enough answer.

“Oh, no, of course not! Or at least, not in the way you mean. It’s only that--" Her mouth twisted and she threw her hands up. “I thought I knew what I wanted to say but it’s harder than I expected finding the right words. I suppose to begin with I should ask--you still love him, do you not?”

There was nothing challenging or accusatory in her tone, but nevertheless he froze. Apparently he had not been at all careful enough not to openly flaunt his lingering attachment. “Forgive me,” he stammered. “Given that you did ask, I--I will not deny that this is true, or even try to pretend that my feelings remain any less ardent than you might imagine them. But I never intended to make any of this your concern, and I am sorry to have failed in that.”

“Gil-galad, please, no,” she laid a hand on his arm. “That’s what I tried to tell you. I don’t ever want you to have to hold those feelings back because of me.” 

He always would to some extent, though, wouldn’t he, especially if and when Elrond arrived here himself. Would have to refrain from so many of the affectionate touches he’d been in the habit of before. “That's very kind of you. I don’t know of many wives who would be so understanding.”

She sighed. “To be honest, it’s so much less work than feeling constantly defensive of my own place in his affections. It’s not as if I replaced you in his heart, after all, I’d feel terrible if I thought I had, so why should I fear you replacing me? We shall each have our own ways of giving him what he needs.”

She spoke almost as if they would be equals in this regard. “A wise notion, if I can call one such that benefits me so greatly.” And she had been so generous already, he felt selfishly emboldened to add, “And while you of course need not fear I would encroach upon your, um, marital privilege, once he joins us are there-- smaller gestures you might feel comfortable allowing?”

“Allowing? Well, it will be Elrond’s place to begin with to choose what he will or will not desire, and I cannot answer for him in that regard. And as for myself, well, I suppose I trust him to make good decisions otherwise. Certainly with you, who I already know and like. I believe the two of you could decide between yourselves how you wish to behave when he returns without it bothering me at all. Including what might fall under ‘marital privilege’, by the way, if I’m declining to interfere in your relationship I don’t think it would be useful to make such a distinction.”

What was she saying? His mind was not prepared to fully comprehend it. The one thing he’d  _ known _ he could never have again, the moment he’d learned of Elrond’s marriage, was now a possibility again? But how could he, even with her permission? It still seemed wrong, somehow. 

“I do not think I will ever fully understand you, Celebrian. If that were something I could have, it would be…” He let his expression fill in for words he could not find. “But we merely speculate for now. And even if the three of us all agreed somehow that we could be happy with such an arrangement, I do not know that I could be comfortable keeping such a secret, as it must be.”

“As it happens, I intend to work on that as well, since you seem to be open to the idea. It will require a lot of time and I cannot be sure of complete success, but I think with enough effort I can convince at least some people there need not be any harm in it.”

Her audacity astounded him. “Where would you even begin?”

She stood. “Do you think Uncle Finrod is still in his study?”

“Er-- probably?”

“Let’s go, then!”

He trailed her back through the garden, into the palace, back to where she had originally found him. Finrod was, indeed still there.

Celebrian entered without slowing down. Gil-galad slipped in behind her. “Uncle! How would you like to debate a matter of philosophy with me?”

Finrid set aside the papers he had been examining and gestured her toward a seat. “Always a tempting distraction. What are we debating?”

“The Statute of Finwë and Miriel.”

His eyebrows rose. “ _ Really? _ ”

\-----

_ For years, decades, centuries, she defended her position one conversation at a time. She found an enthusiastic ally in Aredhel and an unexpected one in Nerdanel. And slowly, she created around her a place where her beloved could fully receive all the happiness she desired to give him. _


	6. Fidelity

_ “And the ship went out into the High Sea and passed on into the West, until at last on a night of rain Frodo smelled a sweet fragrance on the air and heard the sound of singing that came over the water. And then it seemed to him that as in his dream in the house of Bombadil, the grey rain-curtain turned all to silver glass and was rolled back, and he beheld white shores and beyond them a far green country under a swift sunrise.” _

            -- _ The Return of the King _ , Chapter 9, “The Grey Havens”

Elrond stood near the stern of the ship and tried not to think of the emptiness inside him where power had once been, of those he had left behind or of those who might or might not be waiting to meet him. Expecting nothing, he could feel the loss of nothing. All surprises would be happy ones.

He faced resolutely East as he heard others begin to speak of those they could just recognize on the westward shore. 

\-- _ Look, there _ \--

_ \--Is that your father-- _

_ \--I think I see my sister-- _

A pod of dolphins had followed them into the harbor. He tried to point them out to Bilbo, but he feared they were too far off and the old hobbit’s eyes too weak to make them out. In any case, he appreciated having some company back here as most of the other passengers gathered near the fore, eyes on their destination.

A wordless cry went up among the crowd, causing even Bilbo to turn in search of what had provoked it. Indistinct whispers followed, which he could probably have deciphered if he wanted to, and Bilbo looked to be tracking something through the air.Elrond focused his eyes on the waves and resisted even still, patiently certain that any new development would make itself known to him in time.

A huge white sea-bird swooped directly in front of him, caught the breeze and rose up again, circled once above his head, then dove straight toward him--

\--and then the bird was a woman--

\--and she was gripping him by the shoulders--

\--and she whispered his name over and over--

(--shouts and fire and swords and blood and his last glimpse of her shining like trees as she cast herself into the sea--)

“ _ Mother _ \--” he said, certain he should feel something but totally unclear on what it ought to be. After several frozen heartbeats he awkwardly embraced her.

“Well that’s one wonder already,” said Bilbo, “and we haven’t even properly arrived yet!”

They had managed to divert the attention of a few others away from the fast-approaching shore, but none dared approach too near. Elwing stepped back, wiped a few tears from her cheeks, and composed herself. “My son, I know only too well that there is nothing between us now but years, but I hope in time we shall get to know each other at least.” 

Elrond nodded, for though he would it were not so, there was truth in her words. “As do I.”

They stood in silence for a time as the ship hurried ever nearer to their journey’s end. “Bilbo,” Elrond said at one point, “I believe I recall you composed a rather charming song about Eärendil once while a guest in my house, did you not?”

“Oh, that old thing? Let me see if I can remember how it goes…”

By the time Bilbo’s song had finished (bringing a small smile to Elwing’s lips), the ship had arrived and been secured and half the passengers had already disembarked. Elrond could delay no longer. Accompanied by Bilbo and his mother, he stepped on to the dock and could not, after all, stop himself from searching the crowd for one particular person.

He found her almost immediately, fighting for space to greet her mother with another woman who looked enough like both of them she must be some near relation. Fear overtook him once more and he found himself unable to approach or even call out to her.

His mother acted for him. “Celebrian, dear.” She turned at the sound of her name, saw him, and  _ smiled, oh day shall come again! _ “I’ll just hand him off to you, shall I?”

Celebrian approached with perhaps a touch more caution than the heedless charges he remembered. But her feet still carried her surely and swiftly to him, and she did not hesitate before throwing her arms around him and resting her head on his chest.

Gingerly, alert for any sign of distress, he folded her in his arms as well, but her only response was to cling to him still more tightly.

“You’re here,” she murmured. 

As was she. The last of his worries melted away, save one. He had promised himself he would not delay in bearing the bittersweet news.

“The boys will be along when they’re ready,” he told her. “But Arwen...made a different choice.”

She looked up at him, her smile having collapsed into a thin line. “Was she happy?”

“I think so. She married the best of men.”

“My spring blossom… My heart always knew, I think. Some things don’t last forever no matter how much you want them to. ” She came close, but did not cry. “I’ll let you tell me all about it in a little while. For now I want to appreciate what I do have.”

She led him up toward the city while not so much holding his hand as clinging to his entire arm. He let her momentum carry him along, relishing the sound of her voice as she considered what they might do on this, the first day of the next chapter of his life.

“--and I could show you around the city today, I think that’s what my mother and grandmother intend to do,” she glanced over her shoulder, “yes, they’re coming along now. And what sort of folk are those with them, the small ones? You shall have to introduce us eventually. Anyhow, we could also head straight for the forest and be at the house by midday if we were quick about it. That’s where I’ve been living mostly, when I’m not in Tirion. And then I could introduce you to your cousins!”

“My--"

“My brother Elured’s children, Rillian and Elumir,” Elwing supplied.

He looked toward his mother as she spoke, just as Celebrian exclaimed, “Oh! There you are. You did come!”

He turned back in the direction they were heading to see, descending toward them down the white stone steps--

The ultimate effect was him halting at the bottom of the steps because he didn’t know how much more joy his heart could contain.

“Sorry I’m late, I didn’t realize how quickly the ship was going to get in,” Gil-galad was saying. “Though I see you found what you were looking for. Hello, Elrond.”

Standing in front of him, now, when he hadn’t ever really been sure death had not separated them forever. Perhaps if he could think of the right thing to say, his head would stop spinning. Or was it the other way around?

“It’s good to see you at last,” he managed. “You-- you look well.” And he did-- the same causal grin, body still well muscled, though without the unyielding desperation brought on by war.

Not that this was in any way relevant now.

“Do I?” That playful smile made it difficult to categorize his thoughts, to feel toward this man only what he  _ ought _ .

Gil-galad leaned down and murmured something in Celebrian’s ear. 

“Oh, no, you absolutely should, please,” she answered aloud, and took a step away from them.

Being held by Gil-galad (and holding him in turn) paradoxically gave Elrond the space he needed to center himself. The sensation was simply too familiar to be unbalancing. He relaxed and for a moment, found the peace he needed after the morning’s heights of emotion.

And then, just before they separated, Gil-galad stretched up and kissed him right on the tip of the ear.

He stepped back in shock. It had been a habitual gesture of theirs during the war, even in public. But it had still been very  _ suggestive _ of the true nature of their relationship at the time. He felt hear rise to his face-- to do so  _ now _ , with his wife standing right there--

He looked to her and she was giggling, and squeezing Gil-galad’s hand in both of hers. “You did it! You make him blush!”

He could not bring himself to be annoyed by her teasing; her delight soaked into him like rain on parched ground. “What exactly have the two of you been up to while I was away?” he asked instead, for there was clearly some manner of conspiracy between them.

Celebrian glanced at Gil-galad and then both of them were laughing. “Quite a bit, actually,” she answered finally. “When I explain it all to you I hope you will appreciate what I’ve done.”

And for the first time it occurred to him to wonder what Celebrian might have accomplished, if her full power had been unleashed upon Valinor.

\-----

_ She talked him through it all as they lay tangled in each other the next morning. It took time for him to fully accept what she had offered him, but eventually he let himself believe that Gil-galad could still be just as much his as she was. He never doubted that his heart held room enough for both of them. _


End file.
